Spiked Punch
by Rogue Leader
Summary: Wedge and Tycho tell the girls about The Fab Four's trip to Viamarr 4. Written for the 2012 Rogues/Wraiths Fic-A-Thon. Prompts were: "blue", "Corellia/Corellian", and "Sunset".


Wedge was finalizing his dinner attire and fixing his tie in place as Iella put the final touches on her hair. She was wearing a simple dress with ankle boots, and a necklace he'd given her on one of their anniversaries. Likewise, Wedge had kept his own attire simple, with black slacks, white tunic and polished boots in addition to the tie. The two of them were getting ready to meet up with Tycho and Winter for their bi-monthly double-date, and Wedge, for once, was really looking forward to the normalcy of the event.

He and Iella continued their preparations in companionable silence; they had already spoken at length during and after the debriefing from Wedge's latest mission and being in each other's presence was enough for their contentment.

"Your report to General Cracken was a little evasive," Iella said suddenly.

Wedge paused and caught her eye in the mirror. "And since when do you get to read my reports to General Cracken?"

She smiled. "That is classified information," she replied sweetly.

Wedge couldn't help but grin. "And so are the things I left out of my report."

"Touch?" Her return smile faltered a bit, as she added, "But seriously, what happened out there? I don't think I've ever seen Wes and Hobbie so subdued after a mission. Not unless it went badly, and considering that you all returned safe and whole..." Iella trailed off at Wedge's slightly pained expression.

"It didn't go badly in the traditional sense," Wedge said carefully. Iella abandoned her hair and turned to look at her husband.

"Okay, flyboy," she said, raising an inquisitive brow. "Now you _have_ to tell me."

Wedge gave her a helpless look. "Okay, fine. But you didn't hear this from me."

"Of course."

"Right. So we arrived on Viamarr Four without any incident, but as you know from the report our cover was almost blown."

"What does that have to do with-" Iella trailed off again as Wedge held up his hand to forestall her comment.

"In order to keep our identities intact, I decided to employ a trick we'd used previously..."

* * *

"I hate you," Hobbie pronounced. He sat with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl firmly in place.

"No you don't," Wedge replied.

"Yes, I do," Hobbie insisted. "You promised."

Wedge sighed as the conversation started to sound familiar. "What did I supposedly promise this time?"

"That this would never happen again," the ever-pouting pilot insisted.

"I did not," Wedge said. "And besides, none of you had better ideas on how to stay out of sight for a while outside of hiding in a cave somewhere."

"What I want to know," Wes chimed in as he admired himself in the nearest reflective surface, "is how Hobbie ended up in the blue dress this time."

Hobbie's eyebrows shot up in consternation. "Wes, we're in women's clothing for the second time in a year, and the only thing you can find wrong with this is that _I'm_ wearing the blue dress?"

Wes gave his friend a mournful look. "Everyone knows that blue's my colour."

Hobbie made a sound that fell somewhere between a choked snort and a long-suffering sigh. Tycho held up his hands to prevent the situation from getting out of hand.

"Relax," the Alderaanian soothed. "This is just so we can get back to our safe house without being noticed so we don't blow this mission."

"Yeah, and the last time it was so we could escape Cartann and prevent a political coup. Where's the difference?"

"The difference," Wedge hissed, "is that we're undercover this time, and we came dangerously close to being discovered. We need to stay out of sight until things cool down a bit."

"I'll tell you what's cooling things down," Hobbie sulked, "the breeze between my-"

"Enough," Wedge interjected before Hobbie could finish the sentence. "Just accept the fact that we're once more cross-dressing to save our lives, and shut up. That's an order."

* * *

Tycho held the door open for Winter as they stepped out of the building and into the foot-traffic of Coruscant. The Rogue was glad that he'd chosen khaki slacks and a black tunic for their date, since the lighter material of the garments made the warm evening air comfortable. Winter had likewise chosen slacks, but in gold, with a shimmersilk top in platinum. Her long hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and braided.

Tycho offered Winter his arm, and together they walked towards the access area for the higher levels of the city, enjoying what little of the sunset they could see. They had originally planned to take an airtaxi to the restaurant where they were to meet Wedge and Iella, but the tale that had begun upstairs had demanded that they take the long way so Tycho could continue telling it.

"Okay, so you were in dresses. Why would you and Wedge leave that out of your report?" Winter asked.

"You mean apart from the obvious reasons that had we included it, that particular detail would have been leaked to the entire division and the four of us would have been ridiculed for the rest of our lives?" Tycho replied, clearly amused. He never knew how Winter got ahold of reports, and he didn't care. He always took it as a given that anything and everything that happened in the galaxy somehow passed under her scrutiny.

Winter laughed. "Yes, apart from that."

Tycho grinned. "Well, if we included the dresses, then we'd have to include the fact that we somehow ended up in a tapcaf..."

* * *

"Oh, how do we always end up going from bad to worse?" Hobbie whispered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He sat between Wes and Tycho in a semi-circular booth in a shadowed corner of what just happened to be one of the liveliest tapcafs he had ever seen.

Wes nudged an over-flowing mug in Hobbie's direction. "Oh hush, you. And drink your ale. It's getting warm."

"How can you drink at a time like this?" Hobbie asked. "Wedge, shouldn't we be going back to our residences? And isn't drinking, like, a _bad_ idea, all things considered."

Wedge sighed. "This time I agree with you Hobbie, but you heard those guards. They were heading back to the hotel. We couldn't risk it."

"But a tapcaf, though?" Hobbie insisted. "Why not a quiet holo-theatre?"

Tycho smiled in sympathy. "And what makes you think Wes could ever sit still in a holo-theatre? You know him; the only thing that'll keep him in one place is alcohol."

Wes shot Tycho a dirty look and took a swig of his drink. "Ha ha," he intoned dryly. "While I appreciate you not subjecting me to some stupid holo-drama, being in a tapcaf in this get-up is the highest form of torture."

Wedge raised a brow. "I thought you liked the dress?"

"I do, but one simply cannot pick up a woman in a get-up like this. For one, she might get the wrong impression and end up sorely disappointed when she finds out I've got the wrong reproductive organs."

"And thus blowing our cover anyway," Hobbie added. "Need I remind you that your flirting is what got us into this mess in the first place?"

"Hey, how was I supposed to know she was the magistrate's daughter?"

"You could have paid attention during the briefing, you know," Hobbie replied.

"Regardless," Wedge interrupted, "we're here now, and that's all that matters."

Hobbie's face fell. "Oh hell."

The other men looked up and Hobbie could feel the tension between them rise as they all caught sight of the man walking towards them. His height placed him somewhere between Wes and Tycho, though it was hard to figure actual numbers from Hobbie's vantage point. His hair was cut to military specs, as was the uniform that he wore. From what the dour pilot could make of the approaching man's features and complexion, he seemed to be a native Corellian.

"How do we play this, boss?" Hobbie asked softly.

"Put on your best falsetto and pray we can discourage him from joining us."

"And if that doesn't work?" Wes wanted to know.

"We find a way to get him out of here and knock him out."

"Right," Wes acknowledge. "Easy peasy."

* * *

Iella and Winter hugged each other as Wes and Tycho gripped hands. The quartet entered the restaurant and Wedge checked in with the ma?re d' as the others caught up. Once they were seated and had ordered drinks, the girls fixed the men with a keen gaze. Wedge and Tycho exchanged a wary glance before Wedge cleared his throat softly.

"What?" he asked. "My tie crooked?"

"No," Iella replied with a shake of her head.

Winter frowned. "How can you possibly ask that? You know what we want."

Tycho raised a brow. "Not really."

Iella let out an exasperated sigh. "What happened with the Corellian?"

"Oh, that," Wedge replied, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Yes, _that_," Iella mocked. "Spill the goods mister, or you're sleeping on the couch tonight."

Wedge exchanged another look with Tycho before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Well, he when he arrived at our table he tried to pick us up." Wedge shrugged. "We refused."

Winter's jaw fell open. "That can't be all there is. Not after that build up."

Tycho offered a rueful smile. "We refused, but he insisted. So, we got up and tried to push past him."

"Only, he managed to get ahold of Hobbie, somehow," Wedge added.

"We're not quite sure what happened, as it happened so fast, but..."

"A fight broke out," Wedge finished.

"And?!" The girls demanded in unison.

"And, well," Wedge said with another shrug. "Hobbie somehow landed naked in the punch bowl."


End file.
